


We Meet Again, Santiago

by Daisy_Rivers



Category: Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Exams, F/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 13:31:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11760915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_Rivers/pseuds/Daisy_Rivers
Summary: You really need to pass your American Literature test. Rafa comes up with an ingenious study plan.





	We Meet Again, Santiago

You slam the book shut and lean back in your chair, blinking at the ceiling to relieve the eyestrain of staring at the page.

“If I never, ever read another word by Ernest Hemingway, it will be too soon!” you snap. “I hate him. I hate old Santiago and his goddam fish!”

Your boyfriend Rafael has been sitting across the room watching videos on his phone, ignoring your suffering. You glare at him. He looks up, his mouth twitching as he tries not to smile. He loves Hemingway.

“You know Santiago is my middle name,” he says.

“I know,” you tell him. “I don’t care. Anyway, this isn’t about you. It’s about this stupid twentieth century American lit requirement.”

“I don’t want to start anything,” he responds cautiously, since this subject has been discussed before, “but it’s not unreasonable that an English major should know something about American literature.”

You know he’s right. You know your university’s requirement that an English major must study both British and American literature isn’t exactly crazy, but you don’t care. You love Shakespeare. You adore Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë, Keats, Shelley, Dickens, Thackeray, and Wilfred Owen. You can just about tolerate Mark Twain, and you hate Hemingway with a passion you once reserved for terrorists. He liked _bullfighting_ , for God’s sake. He was a fan of _animal abuse._

You have a major test on _The Old Man and the Sea_ tomorrow. You’re going to fail it, and if you do, you can’t hope for better than a C in the class. As an English major, you have to get a B or above in all your subject-major classes to graduate at the end of the semester. It was probably a bad idea to leave the American lit classes till your senior year, but too late now. You feel the childish tears start to well up.

Rafa holds out his hand. “Come here,” he says softly.

You sniff and cross the room to sit next to him on the couch. He puts his arm around you and pulls you in, and you snuggle gratefully into him. He kisses your forehead, then your eyelids, and finally your mouth, taking his time. Your lips part as he pulls you up to sit on his lap. You feel the tense muscles in the back of your neck start to relax a little, and his left hand slides from your knee up your thigh, then to the fastening of your jeans. You want nothing more than for him to unbutton your jeans and keep going, but you pull away.

“We can’t,” you tell him, your frustration evident in your voice.

“Quickie?” he suggests hopefully, and you give him a skeptical look.

“Like the quickie last Saturday?” you ask.

He chuckles. That particular “quickie” had taken the rest of the day, and you were sure that Jasmine and Anthony knew perfectly well that you were lying about a headache when you cancelled for dinner. On Monday, Jazz had given you a bottle of aspirin topped with a bow. “For those headaches you keep getting,” she had snickered, while you blushed furiously.

Now you look up unhappily into Rafa’s gorgeous eyes, more blue than green at the moment, the color of the ocean on a soft spring day. You want nothing more than to get lost in those eyes. “I have to study,” you tell him.

He tilts his head and gives you a long look, his hand still playing with the waistband of your jeans. “I have an idea,” he says, slipping one finger inside your jeans.

You put your hand over his, trying to make your brain focus on that diploma you really want to get in May. “Rafa,” you whimper.

He keeps his finger where it is. “I was thinking of behavioral psychology,” he remarks, as if that was something you’d been discussing.

“What?” you ask him, blinking in confusion.

“Behavioral psychology,” he says again, smiling. “You know, reward for desired behavior.”

You’ve taken a couple of psych courses. “Okay,” you respond cautiously, still having no idea what he’s talking about.

“You’re supposed to want to study for the reward of a good grade, or acquiring knowledge, or, in the long run, getting the diploma, right?”

You nod. “Right.”

“But at the moment, that reward doesn’t seem to be motivating you enough to get this studying done.”

You nod again, feeling guilty and miserable. “I know.”

He grins and slowly unbuttons your jeans. “I’m offering you a different reward.”

His hand is inside your panties, and you gasp as he moves it farther down, his fingers gentle and knowing. It’s his left hand. He’s left-handed, and very, very good with his hands.

His right hand is on the back of your head and he holds you still as he kisses you, his tongue in your mouth mimicking the movement of his fingers. You start to melt, lifting your hips and sliding your hand into his hair. Maybe if you tried really hard to make it fast …

At the instant you persuade yourself to continue, he pulls away, yanks his hand out of your pants, and lifts you off his lap. You’re sitting next to him on the couch, panting and frustrated.

“What the hell?” you ask angrily.

He licks his finger and sighs. “Oh, that’s nice. I’d like some more.”

“Then what …?”

He shakes his head. “Behavioral psychology. That’s the reward. First, you master The Old Man and the Sea. Then you get the reward.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you demand, frustrated and outraged.

“Nope. You study. I’ll quiz you.” He smiles diabolically. “For every correct answer, you get a reward. The more difficult the question, the bigger the reward.”

“You bastard,” you respond, torn between fury and admiration.

He’s still smiling. “I hear,” he says casually, looking off somewhere over your shoulder, “that fast rappers have very strong lip and tongue muscles from all the practice.”

You gasp and feel a sudden surge of wetness soaking your panties.

“I’m going to kill you,” you threaten through clenched teeth.

“Wouldn’t you really rather fuck me?” he asks softly.

Three hours later, you push away your book, close your notepad, and put down your pen. He’s still seated on the couch, working now, scribbling in a spiral notebook. You turn and face him. “Okay,” you tell him. “I’m ready.”

He stands up and holds out his hand. “Let’s go, then.”

“Go?”

“Yeah, this exam will be conducted in the bedroom.”

You feel your breathing quicken and hope you can stay focused enough to remember the facts you had been concentrating on for the last few hours.

“I’m going to patent this study method,” Rafa says, closing the bedroom door behind you.

“Oh, really?” Rafael has done extensive work in creating curriculum for courses from middle school to college, but you don’t see how he could make this work.

“Mm-hmm. I’m calling it the Naked Hemingway Method. First requirement is that everyone in the exam room has to be naked.”

You start to giggle. “I can’t see many middle schools adopting that method,” you tell him.

He shrugs, and helps you pull your shirt over your head. “It may have to be modified.”

In less than two minutes, your clothes and his lie on the floor. He looks you up and down and runs his fingers lightly down your spine. You shiver and take a step closer to him, but he shakes his head.

“Second requirement, the examinee – that’s you – must be lying down on the bed.”

That sounds wonderful, and you comply, expecting him to join you.

He doesn’t, though. You lie down, your head on the soft pillow, and he sits on the side of the bed next to you, but not touching.

“What’s the next requirement?” you ask.

“The exam begins. Remember, you get a reward for every correct answer.”

“What if I get a wrong answer?”

He narrows his eyes. “I haven’t decided yet,” he says thoughtfully. “In some behavioral psychology studies, results have shown that punishment increases goal-oriented behavior. Others find that simply withholding the reward is a better motivator. I think I’ll experiment with both as we go along.”

“Punishment?” you ask. You’re sure he’s joking, but it gives you a shivery feeling of anticipation.

“No more discussion,” Rafa announces formally. “The exam begins now. First question: who wrote _The Old Man and the Sea?_ ”

You laugh. “Ernest Hemingway, idiot,” you respond.

Rafa frowns at you. “I’m sorry, that’s incorrect. The answer is Ernest Hemingway, without the addition of the examinee’s personal opinion.”

“Fine,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

“I think with an error so early in the exam, there should be a punishment.”

“What?”

He nods, his gaze traveling from your head to your feet. “You may not make any sound except to respond to the questions.”

“Okay, whatever.”

He puts his finger over your lips. “Sh.”

You’re silent, and he runs his finger lightly around your mouth.

“Next question,” he continues. “Who is Santiago’s hero?”

“Joe DiMaggio,” you respond.

“Oh, good,” Rafa smiles. “Reward time.” He leans over, his hands on either side of your shoulders, and kisses you thoroughly, open-mouthed, his tongue exploring everywhere. It’s wonderful, and you reach up to put your arms around him, but he pulls back and shakes his head. “Only one reward at a time.”

“Oh, come on,” you protest.

“No talking,” he reminds you seriously. “You can nod or shake your head, though. Do you want more rewards?”

Of course you nod.

“Then you have to follow the rules. You weren’t supposed to talk, so now there will have to be another punishment.”

You shake your head vigorously.

“Well, then, we’ll have to stop the exam, and then there won’t be any more rewards either.”

You glare at him furiously, but you stay quiet. You want the rewards.

Rafa smiles, knowing exactly what is in your mind. “Put your arms above your head,” he tells you. You comply. It’s not uncomfortable. The position lifts your breasts, and you see Rafa enjoying that. You look at him, and it’s evident that he’d like some rewards too. You smile back at him.

The questions go on – Manolin, the days of disappointment, the decision to go farther out to sea, the marlin, the sharks, the failure, the village. With each correct response, Rafa touches and tantalizes you. He trails kisses down your neck to your breasts, then teases you with his tongue. He knows exactly how to scrape his teeth over your hard, erect nipple, not quite biting, but making it sting just enough to make your hips jerk. He sucks, hard, making you wish he could take your whole breast into his mouth, and you arch up, offering it to him.

Your repeated correct answers cancel your punishments, and the two of you work your way through every detail of _The Old Man and the Sea_. You’re amazed at how easy it is, at how clear it seems to you now as you answer a question about Santiago’s dream of lions. You’re almost done, and Rafa is kissing your inner thighs. You spread your legs as far as you can, wanting his mouth on you, wanting him inside you, wanting everything at once.

“Last question,” Rafa says, his breath coming in gasps. He uses his thumbs to open you and slides his tongue along your inner labia, then flicks your clit just once. You feel like you have never in your life wanted anything more than you want him to keep doing it. You push toward him, but he lifts his head so that your eyes meet. His are sea-green now, the pupils huge. He licks his lips and smiles at you. “I love you so much,” he says. “You’ve worked so hard. You deserve every reward there is. Now tell me why Santiago is undefeated.”

“He’s strong,” you begin, and Rafa’s tongue is circling your clit. You try to keep talking. “He’s brave and determined.” You pause, panting, and his tongue flicks back and forth faster. “I c-can’t,” you gasp, “please …I want …”

He pulls back. “Don’t make me stop,” he begs you, his voice as ragged as yours.

You take a breath. “In the end,” you continue shakily, “he refuses to give up, and …” you’re so close, and you want it so much “… and his perseverance is his victory.”

Rafa has you right on the brink, and he pushes three fingers into you as his tongue continues to flutter against your swollen clit. You feel your orgasm starting, growing, beginning to overpower you, and you make wailing sounds that you don’t even recognize. You lose all control, your body writhing and your hips bucking off the bed over and over, slamming into him. You come harder than you ever have, wave after wave pounding your body as everything goes white and you feel yourself soaring into indescribable bliss. He stays with you all the way through it, until you lie shaking and panting in his arms.

“Oh, God,” you gasp, “you are amazing. I never … I didn’t …”

“So, good study method, you think?” he asks, breathing hard.

Your breath catches in a laugh. “Yeah. In fact,” you add, “I think the person who came up with this idea needs a reward.”

“I like that idea,” he says, and you reach down and take him in your hand. You slide your thumb along his length.

“Ah, shit, that feels good,” he breathes, and you push him onto his back.

“Your reward,” you tell him. “Let me do this.”

He has no objection, and you move your hands over him, his chest, his arms, his hips, and finally back to his cock. You lean over and take it in your mouth, swirling your tongue around and around it. He lets out a moan, and you give one last lick and then straddle him, sliding down as slowly as you can and watching his face. His lips are parted, and his eyes are on yours. Earlier, you had thought you could get lost in his eyes, and now that’s exactly what you intend to do. Slowly but steadily, you being to move up and down, marveling at the perfect way he fits into you, filling you, stretching you just enough that you can feel the pressure on every side. You stare into those amazing ocean-colored eyes as you move, and you can hear his breath getting shorter.

“I love you,” you whisper, and you move faster, tightening around him, knowing that you’re going to come again.

He smiles at you and puts his thumb on your clit, and you rub against it as you move on him, and you feel a spasm that tightens you even more, as if your body is trying to pull him even farther inside you, and you push harder. He throws his head back and you hear him gasp, “Ah, fuck.”

His words intensify your excitement, and your body responds. Your walls contract around him again and again as you’re overtaken by your second orgasm. You grip his shoulders with both hands, moaning and shuddering as he comes too, arching up to thrust into you as hard as he can. It takes a few minutes to come down and stop shivering, and you lie wrapped in each other, arms and legs tangled, both of you sated and sleepy.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Hm?” he responds, his eyebrow up quizzically.

“For helping me study.”

He smiles and you curl against him and fall asleep.

The next day you get an A on the test.

**Author's Note:**

> Rafael's middle name really is Santiago.  
> The title of this is from a silly video where he calls Daveed "David," and D calls him "Santiago." I think it's some sort of inside joke that I don't understand, but I liked the sentence, so I used it.  
> I actually doubt if Rafa is a big Hemingway fan. He may like his writing, but Hemingway's hyper-macho philosophy is not something Rafa shares.  
> I hope you enjoy spending fantasy time with the amazing bay boy. Let me know if you do. Thanks for reading.


End file.
